


DREAM

by saturnvern



Series: You'll be okay. [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Chwe Hansol | Vernon-centric, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hip Hop unit, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, References to Depression, Sensory Overload, depersonalisation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 11:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17939015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnvern/pseuds/saturnvern
Summary: “Wonwoo.” Hansol chants. “Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo.” Why can’t he breathe properly again?“I don’t know.” Wonwoo looks at Hansol with concern.“Wonwoo, is this real?”“What does he mean is this real?” Seungcheol has a slight panic in his voice.“It’s real Hansol-ah.” Wonwoo finally says, and Hansol slumps. It’s not tight anymore. The air is easier to breathe and Hansol counts how many fingers he has laced with Wonwoo’s hand. He has five. It’s real. It’s not a dream.alternatively - seventeen celebrate the end of their promotions and hansol doesn't react well with alcohol





	DREAM

Hansol’s vision is a little bit blurry. Like when it’s raining and you’re driving and the windscreen wipers are moving as fast as they can but it’s still not good enough. The type of blurry that when you squint, all the lights seem to get a bit brighter and the world appears to look darker.

 

“Let’s go!” Chan yells. “Another round! One shot for every win!”

 

“Let’s go!” Soonyoung mimics and he thrusts his fist into the air.

 

Hansol’s mouth feels dry, his tongue like worn out sandpaper, heavy in his mouth. He takes the shot anyway, and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

 

It feels really hard to lift up the cup. They’ve been using the mugs they always use when they drink tea or coffee for convenience, but also because Jeonghan didn’t want to by real shot glasses since they were unreasonably expensive and because “We already have cups! Why spend more money?”

 

But anyways, Hansol’s hand felt like his wrist was going to eventually fall off and detach from his arm and that his hand was going to drop to the ground and roll around like a snake. It didn’t make him feel very confident.

 

They did a couple more shots, and Hansol was left feeling more dizzy. He trips over his feet when he made his way to the couch. He doesn’t know who he’d propped up against.

 

“Dori, can you believe that your song got on the top charts?” Jihoon asks, nudging Hansol with his shoulder to catch his attention.

 

“Huh?” Hansol says. “Oh yeah.” He rubbed his neck. “It’s not that impressive. Your songs are always on the charts.” Hansol points out.

 

“I know.” Jihoon laughs. “But it’s your first time as a _composer_ to get up there. Pretty impressive huh?” He takes a swig at the beer he has wrapped around his hands. “Don’t you think?” He asks again when Hansol doesn’t reply.

 

“I guess?” He gives Jihoon a one shouldered shrug. “I don’t really know, it’s not that great.” He wrinkles his nose, a frown pulling his face down. Maybe if he went and drank some more he’d feel better. “Thanks for the compliment though.” He gets up unsteadily.

 

“Don’t drink too much.” Jihoon warns him. “I don’t want to be the one to carry you to bed.”

 

Hansol waves with his hand as he walks away, not looking back. He misses the crease between Jihoon eyebrows.

 

It’s wobbly trying to walk. He couldn’t eat that much during the staff dinner, but he shouldn’t feel guilty because that means that Seungcheol-hyung got to save money. Since he didn’t eat that much, he should get drunk faster right? Then he’d feel light instead of heavy. Nobody noticed at dinner anyway, they were too busy talking and laughing to notice Hansol.

 

He manages to stumble into Wonwoo, the older mans arms encasing him immediately. “Yah, look where you’re going.” Wonwoo tells him fondly. “You better not be going for another drink Hansol-ah. You look drunk already.” He brushes the hair out of Hansol’s eyes.

 

“I’m not drunk!” Hansol insists. “I don’t feel happy yet, I need to drink some more.”

 

Wonwoo frowns. “You’re not happy _yet_?” He says carefully.

 

“Nah.” Hansol shakes his head. “I’m supposed to be happy right? Why do I feel so sad?” He pouts and rests his forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Why do I feel ten times worse?”

 

“Maybe you need to do something.” Wonwoo suggests. “Something that makes you happy.”

 

Hansol shrugs. He doesn’t have enough energy to even think about what could possibly make him happy. “You smell nice.” Hansol says instead.

 

Wonwoo laughs, in the way where he scrunches his nose cutely. “I put on some aftershave.” He tells Hansol. The younger buries his face into Wonwoo’s chest.

 

“I like it.” Hansol tells him. Then he pushes himself off of Wonwoo. He wants to feel the cold air against his face. That’s what he wants. It might not make him happy but he’ll like it.

 

He leaves and no one asks where he’s going.

 

There’s a roof on top of their dorm, a nice open space with no ceiling. Maybe the skies are clear enough for him to see the stars. He would like that. To lie and gaze up at the twinkling lights in the dark sky.

 

He climbs up the stairs, it smells wet and humid and Hansol shivers at the cold winter air. It’s cold, he notices. He forgets to tell the rest where he went.

 

There’s puffs of white flowy air with every breath he takes, his breathing condensing in with the chilly night, joining in with the rest of the noise in the atmosphere. His hands are shaking. It’s weird, he muses. That the stars in the sky look smaller than he is. That though they are smaller they are actually larger and brighter than Hansol could possibly imagine. That if he ever manages to touch one, his fingertips would burn before even grasping it. His hands are shaking and his breath is unsteady. He’s with the stars.

 

He lies down on his back, his arms hugging himself, shielding him from the cold. Of course he can’t escape the cold. It’s hard to run away from something that always moves.

 

He wonders whether he’s really here. Whether there really is a party going on downstairs, and if he is lying on the ice cold concrete by himself. He thinks about the lights in the buildings of Seoul and how someone must have turned it on, or did they? How can light from the universe is turned on by someone? It’s weird, he muses. That there are clothes on his body and too much noise to be silent. That he can hear the beeps of cars and the buzz of electricity.

 

It’s weird, he muses. That he’s really here.

 

He forgets that he’s drunk and he forgets that his friends are downstairs. He just knows the dreamy and dizzy unrealness he sees, the feeling of watching the world from the back of your brain, sitting quietly and doing nothing as everything else runs past you too quickly for you to catch up.

 

He’s too far away and he’s suddenly scared.

 

He doesn’t really notice how his breathing suddenly changes and how his hands curled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

 

He’s too far away from the world, if only he can reach out and maybe he’ll feel real again. It’s floaty and scary, the stars above him are now twinkling maliciously at him, glaring brightness and screaming lights. His teeth chatters and he struggles to stand up, his knee scrapes against the ground. The ground is uneven and rugged, sharp and mean and it claws at his knee.

 

Is he really bleeding or is he dreaming? He doesn't know. It feels like a dream.

 

Where are his friends? Where’s Seungkwan? Where is he? Where is he where is he where is he where is he?

 

He doesn’t know where he is.

 

The air feels too fresh. Too chilled and cool, too pointy and keen to swallow down. It burns.

 

His mind reels, it’s moving like a spinning top, round and round and round and it feels like he’s falling down a dark dark hole. Like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe he’ll wake up and he’ll wake up and he’ll wake up and he’ll wake up.

 

Oh. It’s over.

 

He can breathe again.

 

The stars wink above him. They need to stop teasing him.

 

-

He stumbles back into the dorm. Everything moves too fast. It’s hazy and disorientating. It’s like watching a camera move too fast or the internet’s too slow when you call your mom so it’s disjointed and it’s really _really_ hard to focus. He almost trips over his laces. They’re untied.

 

He can’t really hear, it’s all just noise and voices and he’s more concerned about the colours, there’s so many colours that don’t seem to be staying in the lines.

 

There’s someone knelt in front of him. Hansol knows they’re scolding him but he can’t really focus on his voice. It’s too far away and Hansol’s arms aren’t long enough to reach out.

 

They straighten up in front of him and wave in front of his face. No, don’t do that, he wants to say. Hansol grabs it, it’s warm and the tips of Hansol’s fingers are like ice compared to it.

 

He knows it’s Wonwoo in front of him but how does he know? How does he really know that Wonwoo’s really there? He doesn’t. It’s just guessing.

 

“Is this real?” Hansol finds himself asking. “Is this a dream?”

 

“A dream?” Wonwoo is puzzled. “Why would this be a dream?”

 

Hansol shakes his head. Wonwoo doesn’t understand. “Is this real?” He repeats.

 

“Hansol, maybe we need to get you outside for some air.”

 

“I already went outside.” Hansol tells Wonwoo. “It hurt.”

 

“Hurt?” Wonwoo is worried. His eyebrow furrows. “Hurt where? How?”

 

“Knees.” Hansol says simply. “Is this real?” Wonwoo hasn’t answered his question yet and Hansol’s feeling a bit panicked now. Where is he really?

 

His chest feels heavy as he looks around, over Wonwoo’s shoulder. It’s loud and people are shouting and smiling and Hansol feels so so _so_ out of place.

 

“Wonwoo.” He says meekly. He grips Wonwoo’s hand tightly. Wonwoo doesn’t reply. He’s looking intently at Hansol, his eyes tracing past his facial features. “Wonwoo.” Hansol says again.

 

There’s pressure on his shoulder and he think he hears Seungcheol. “What’s happening here?”

 

“Wonwoo.” Hansol chants. “Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo.” Why can’t he breathe properly again?

 

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo looks at Hansol with concern.

 

“Wonwoo, is this real?”

 

“What does he mean is this real?” Seungcheol has a slight panic in his voice.

 

“It’s real Hansol-ah.” Wonwoo finally says, and Hansol slumps. It’s not tight anymore. The air is easier to breathe and Hansol counts how many fingers he has laced with Wonwoo’s hand. He has five. It’s real. It’s not a dream.

 

“I want to sit down.” Hansol states. He ignores whatever Seungcheol says to Wonwoo as they guide him to sit back down.

 

He sits, and he rocks his feet, ankle to toe, ankle to toe. His hands are still a bit cold but they’re warming up now. Seungcheol squats in front of Hansol, his big palms resting on his knees.

 

“What are you feeling Sol?”

 

“Heavy.” Hansol says, he drops his head onto the sofa. “Light?” The ceiling looks blue.

 

“Maybe don’t drink anymore okay?” Seungcheol suggests while Wonwoo rubs Hansol’s shoulder. “It’ll make you feel worse.”

 

“Why?”

 

There’s a beat of hesitation and Wonwoo breaks the silence. “Because alcohol is a depressant.” He says in his comforting deep voice. “For some people, they might feel worse than happier.”

 

Hansol frowns. “Alcohol is supposed to make you happy though. Last time I was happy.”

 

“Your body’s changed.” Wonwoo gently tells him. “Just don’t drink anymore okay?”

 

He nods. He’s not depressed.

 

“You want some cola?” Seungcheol asks. He rests his cheek against Hansol’s knee. Seungcheol looks so pretty and his hair is so soft.

 

“You’re so pretty.” Hansol compliments. “Wonwoo-hyung is also so pretty. Where’s Mingyu-hyung? He’s also pretty.”

 

Seungcheol laughs and so does Wonwoo. Wonwoo calls Mingyu over.

 

“So do you want some cola?” Seungcheol asks again as Mingyu makes his way over, tripping over someone’s leg.

 

“Yes.” Hansol agrees. “Mingyu-hyung!” He cries when he sees Mingyu stop in front of him. “You’re so pretty as well.”

 

“You’re the prettiest.” Mingyu replies smoothly.

 

“Get cola for Hansol.” Wonwoo demands.

 

Mingyu pouts. “I just got here.”

 

“Please?” Hansol tugs on Mingyu’s shirt. “I want some cola and Seungcheol-hyung says no drinking for me.”

 

Mingyu shoots the older members a glance. “Sure.” He smiles down at Hansol. “I’ll get your cola.”

 

Hansol hums.

 

He can hear Seungcheol and Wonwoo quietly conversing but he’s too drained and tired to focus.

 

Mingyu hands him his cola and he beams. “Thanks!” He says. Cola suddenly makes everything better. He feels lighter.

 

“You know you’re the prettiest, right Hansol?” Mingyu tells him, plopping down next to him.

 

“No.” Hansol shakes his head. “You guys are.”

 

“No.” Seungcheol disagrees. “You are.”

 

“You are.” Wonwoo tells him.

 

“I am?” Hansol looks shyly at his coke can. “Really?”

 

“Of course.” Mingyu lunges over to hug him. He spills a bit of his cola.

 

“Mingyu is drunk.” Wonwoo comments, watching as Hansol scolds Mingyu for spilling his drink. Hansol seemed cheerful and happy now. It hurt Wonwoo’s brain to see how fast Hansol’s emotions can change. Especially when he’s intoxicated.

 

“Let them be.” Seungcheol tells Wonwoo. He gets up and walks over to where Wonwoo looks at the youngest members of their unit tackle each other. “We shouldn’t have let him drink.” He murmurs.

 

Wonwoo agrees.

 

 -

 

Later that night, Hansol counts how many fingers he has before he goes to sleep. Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a bit different. this is based off my own personal experiences with alcohol, depression, anxiety and depersonalisation - its basically one of the ways your brain might defend itself from real life. (im not an expert this is just from my own personal experience it might not be similar to yours.) 
> 
> please be careful if you're drinking alcohol when youre depressed, anxious or/and on anti-depressants because it really can make you feel a lot worse and i do not recommend it lol. 
> 
> i took me longer to write this because i didn't really know where i wanted it to go or if i should focus more on the depression/anxiety side of things but i found my experiences with depersonalisation or dissociation interesting and it was really hard to describe so i thought it would be fun writing this
> 
> please seek help if you're struggling with your mental health! no harm comes from asking for help!


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